


the winner takes it all

by maharlika



Series: loki on ice [4]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Fluff and Smut, Graphics, Hot Springs & Onsen, Image Heavy, M/M, Multimedia, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, POV Outsider, Rimming, Sibling Incest, Social Media, Teasing, Wet & Messy, Winter Olympics, figure skater loki, figure skating, hockey player thor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:29:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24109021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maharlika/pseuds/maharlika
Summary: Loki: i’m going to dieLoki: i’m gonna trip on the ramp and break my ankleLoki: i’ll have to go home a failure and i’ll never skate againThor: you’re not going to die. you’re going to march out there and show everyone why you deserve to be hereLoki: …okay. thank you.Thor: 😃❤️Loki and Thor compete at the Olympics.A Figure Skater AU told through social media.
Relationships: Loki/Thor (Marvel)
Series: loki on ice [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1698331
Comments: 57
Kudos: 243





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [na_shao](https://archiveofourown.org/users/na_shao/gifts).



> Written for Elsa, for her birthday 💕
> 
> And thank you to Wendy for the beta and the support and encouragement while I was writing this :D 💛
> 
> The formatting for this isn't terrible on mobile but I think it looks a lot neater on a computer because of all the graphics.
> 
> Also, it's probably a good idea to read at least the first fic in this series before this one :)
> 
> Chapter 1 is the Olympics arc and chapter 2 is the smutty Shenanigans in Japan coda! Please check both chapters out :D

\--

The Opening Ceremony for the Nagano 2022 Winter Olympics is in 8 hours and Loki thinks he’s going to puke. He’d hated his first opening ceremony—there is nothing worse than being stuck for hours in a hot, crowded room with hundreds of other athletes—ugh—who are all too pent-up and anxious and excited, brimming over with national pride. Plus, it ends too late, and he has to skate the next morning. Skate. At the Olympics. He can’t do it. He picks up his phone and texts Thor.

\--

Loki’s 25th to skate for the Men’s Short Program, going first in the last group of skaters. It’s nerve-wracking, watching each of the skaters go. Loki can barely pay attention. His brain feels stuffed full and slow, but everything moves too fast around him. He escapes backstage and goes through his stretches, but eventually he runs out of things to do. He doesn’t want to talk to the other skaters, so he stares at his phone and wishes he could text Thor. Only, Thor is at the hockey pre-qualifiers, and Loki wouldn’t get an answer anyway. 

There are cameras everywhere. They mostly bother Peter but NBC comes up to him and tries to get something patriotic out of him. Loki smiles tight and says he’s glad to be here among the best skaters in the world.

_Are you looking to medal?_

_I’m not really focusing on the medals. I’m just here to skate clean and skate my best._

At some point, Bucky, also skating in the last group, drags Loki to do a quick song and dance with the Russian broadcaster. Loki has no idea what he says, isn’t even sure if his Russian is intelligible, but the anxiety ebbs for a few moments. And then Bucky’s coach is calling him over, and Loki’s legs feel like jelly again.

Eventually, Valentina drags him to sit outside on the bench and watch the last few skaters before him. The music and the scores and the Kiss & Cry and the cheering crowd all blur together until somehow an hour and a half has passed and he has to stand up—an impossible task—and go out into the ice for the warm-up.

Why did he ever want this? Why did he ever think it was a good idea?

“ _Loki_ ,” Valentina urges, as he sits frozen. “It is time.”

Loki heaves in a breath, feels his lungs rattle with it. He stands up, sheds his jacket, and slides onto the ice.

His costume shimmers in the glaring lights of the stadium. He raises a hand, the orange beak of a swan, and reminds himself: _this is not all you have_. He thinks of Thor the other night, bullying his way through the crowd of American Olympians to stand next to Loki. How, for the briefest moments, their hands had brushed, then clasped tight, then let go again.

He goes into a few jumps, a double Salchow, a triple Toe, a Triple Loop. Closes his eyes for a brief moment and listens to the scratch of blades against the ice, and remembers himself at four years old, in the cornfield, Thor behind him to keep him safe.

He opens his eyes.

When the other skaters leave the ice, he takes his position at the center of the rink, tucks his beak under his chin, ruffles his feathers.

The music starts.

\--

\--

Loki’s legs wobble as he steps out of the Kiss & Cry. His short program—clean, thank _fuck_ —takes him to third place with five skaters left. Even Valentina seems pleased, smiling wide enough to show teeth, carrying the huge bouquet his fans had handed over. He adjusts the flower crown on his head, patting the huge, beautiful roses, and makes his way to the Green Room.

Four years ago, a fifth-place finish would have devastated him. Today, Loki thinks he’s lucky. He’s riding on a wave of contentment, success, an achievement he feels he actually deserves. He even high-fives Peter as the kid takes his spot in the Green Room after a truly spectacular skate.

Valentina doesn’t look happy when he walks over to her, though, and he tugs at his jacket, suddenly feeling cold.

“ _Zaichik_ ,” Valentina calls him, and Loki frowns.

“What happened?” he asks.

She hands him her phone silently, where there’s an article pulled up.

“Bastards,” she mutters in Russian.

Loki reads the article.

At first, he doesn’t quite understand it. It doesn’t filter properly through his brain, the words on the screen.

_Is he even a man? His costume and body language say otherwise._

_Shouldn’t he be skating with the ladies?_

_Boys are going to think they’ll end up like him if they figure skate. It’s a bad example._

He looks up and realizes he’s breathing hard, phone clenched tightly in his hand.

“They don’t know what they talk about,” Valentina says, grim. Loki swallows, his throat suddenly dry, and almost laughs. Valentina, who says she’s never coached anyone gay before. Valentina, who once said she didn’t know whether to treat him nicely like one of the girls or yell at him like one of the boys. Valentina, who now looks at him with concerned eyes. _Zaichik_. She only calls him that when she’s truly worried.

“It’s okay,” Loki says. He shakes his head. “You’re right, they have no idea what they’re talking about.”

He shakes out his shoulders, and gives her her phone back.

“I skated well, didn’t I?”

“You skated very well,” Valentina nods.

She puts her phone back in her pocket. They don’t talk about it again.

\--

\--

Loki is somehow even more nervous for the Team Event than the Men’s Singles Event. He doesn’t play well with others. That’s why he’s a _figure skater_. But in an event like this, he’s not just skating for himself—he’s skating for his teammates too.

“Hey, uh, are you okay?” Peter asks.

“I’m not okay, no,” Loki says, staring out into the rink. The Short Program is going to start soon, and there’s only ten of them skating. Loki’s glad he’s doing the short, at least—they’re leaving the Free Skate to Peter, so he can rack up those quads.

But if Loki fucks this up badly enough, then the US might not even qualify for the Free Skate events. He wants to dig a ditch and crawl into it until everyone forgets he even exists.

He’d miss Thor, though.

Peter bites his lip. He’s dressed head-to-toe in Team USA merch, and Loki can’t tell if he hurts any less to look at than when he’s in costume. His team really pulled out all the stops for the Olympics: a black turtleneck with black pants, some shimmery bands of barely-not-black crisscrossing the middle of his chest.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Peter says, laughing awkwardly. “I mean, I know it’s my first time here, but it’s amazing! I’m happy just to be here. Honest.”

“You know they’re gonna swallow you whole if you don’t win this, right?” Loki says.

Peter shrugs. “They’re gonna swallow me whole anyway.”

Loki gives him a sidelong glance.

“So,” he says, “you and my brother text?”

“Oh my god,” Peter says, and then he’s going a mile a minute. “Has he mentioned me? Oh my god. I wish we could watch the hockey events. I mean, there’s another pre-qualifying tomorrow, but I couldn’t even get tickets, do you think Thor has tickets? Do you think we could get tickets?”

Loki blinks. “I’ll…ask him.”

Peter beams.

“I’m really glad we’re in the Team Event together!” he chirps. He sounds entirely sincere.

Then he does something terrible, and holds his fist out for a fistbump.

“We better win this,” Loki grumbles, and lifts his fist to meet Peter’s.

\--

\--

Loki thinks he’s watched enough hockey to know what to expect from Thor’s pre-qualifying game against Sweden.

He was wrong, though.

When he watched Thor on TV, he never popped a fucking _boner_.

It’s mortifying, but seeing his brother up close—his speed, his strength, his precise, effortless skating—it’s enough to have him crossing his legs. The bottle of water he brought with him is empty before half-time.

Beside him, Peter is transfixed, and Loki can only be grateful, because he feels like a mess. It’s ridiculous—Thor is barely recognizable under the bulky uniform and the mask, but he holds Loki’s attention for the entire game.

He’s magnetizing. _Electric_.

Something bubbles up inside Loki, pride and longing and an aching emptiness.

He’s entirely aware of how long it’s been since his brother fucked him.

With three minutes to the end of the game, Thor scores the winning goal, slides the puck neatly past the goalie from almost halfway across the rink, and Loki’s mouth goes dry. His cock gives a little twitch, too, reminding him of just how much Thor’s competence turns him on.

When the final buzzer sounds, the crowd surges up around him, bringing him up along the swell of riotous cheer, and Loki loses himself in it. It’s euphoric.

Later on, when the crowd has thinned, Loki searches the rink for Thor, but the hockey players seem to be filing off backstage, into the locker rooms.

He wrinkles his nose. There’s no way he’s going to barge in there.

Instead, he and Peter say their goodbyes, and Loki decides to drop by the bathroom to compose himself.

His phone buzzes before he can leave the stadium.

\--

\--

He runs into Thor’s teammates.

It’s almost enough to have him turn around and run the other way, but one of them peels off ahead of the group and, to Loki’s horror, starts jogging towards him.

“Hey, Odinson!” he says. Loki bites his lip. He recognizes the guy after all the games he’s watched, but he has no idea why Fandral Osland would have anything to say to him.

Fandral stops in front of him, close enough to touch, but he doesn’t.

“I just wanted to say,” he says, smiling charmingly, “that your skating has been impeccable.”

“Oh,” Loki says, caught off-guard, “thank you. You guys were great tonight. Congratulations on making the quarterfinals.”

Fandral grins and executes a little bow that has Loki smiling despite himself.

The other hockey players are catching up, though they give them some distance.

“And I truly hope you don’t let anyone’s nasty opinions make you feel anything less than brilliant,” Fandral says. He sweeps his hair back with his hand, and Loki almost snorts.

“Thank you, really,” Loki says. “I need to go see Thor.”

“Ah,” Fandral says, and if he’s disappointed, he doesn’t show it. “Of course. Have a good evening! Tell your brother we’ll be up all night with drinks.”

“I’ll be sure to pass it along,” Loki says dryly.

Fandral does a two-fingered salute before dashing off with the rest of his teammates.

Loki smiles to himself. If he wasn’t in love with his brother…ah.

But no one compares to Thor.

Even if he wants a quickie with his own brother in the locker room at the Olympics Stadium.

 _Especially_ if he wants that, Loki amends.

When he finds Thor standing in the locker room with only a towel around his waist, they waste no time getting into one of the shower cubicles—they have tall doors, ones that reach the floor so there’s less chance of being noticed, and only Thor is tall enough that his head, still wet from the post-game shower, pokes out—and Loki goes to his knees, unheeding of the wet floor.

The towel falls. There’s nothing but the sound of their harsh breaths, loud in the silence, as Loki reaches for his brother’s cock. One kiss to the head, already sticky with pre-come, and then Loki’s mouth is on Thor, swallowing him down.

“Holy fuck, baby,” Thor whispers. His hands dig into Loki’s hair.

Thor is almost frenzied as he fucks Loki’s mouth, clearly running high on the night’s victory. His cock makes a place for itself in Loki’s throat, thick and hot, and Loki closes his eyes and moans, fingers scrabbling at Thor’s thighs.

He relaxes his throat and lets his tears run, gagging on his brother’s cock and loving it. There’s always a part of him that feels empty unless Thor is fucking him.

“Look at you,” Thor grunts, “God, baby. Do you think I’d stop if someone walked in? Do you think I’d be able to?”

Loki groans at that, his cock pulsing as he imagines it.

“They’d know I was fucking someone in here,” Thor pants. “It’s impossible not to. But they wouldn’t know—oh, fuck, _baby_ —they wouldn’t know my own baby brother was on his knees, taking my cock like a fucking champion.”

Loki moans softly, his hands running up and down Thor’s thighs, scratching occasionally, leaving red lines.

He looks up at Thor, mouth full of cock, and does one slow, languid suckle that has his brother swearing frantically. Thor puts both hands on Loki’s head and jerks his hips into Loki’s face, so hard and rough that Loki gets pushed backwards on the floor. Fuck, his knees are going to ache. He feels it when Thor’s about to come, feels his brother go taut under his hands before his come is flooding Loki’s mouth.

He pounds on Thor’s thigh, urging him to pull out, and Thor hisses in a breath as Loki leans to the side and spits out his come.

Before Loki can do anything else, Thor is hauling him to his feet and kissing him hard, pushing him up against the cubicle door and shoving a large hand under Loki’s shirt.

Loki loses himself in the kiss, but when Thor’s other hand cups him through his pants, he pulls away, shaking his head.

“ _Baby_ ,” Thor says, voice rough. “Let me take care of you.”

“No,” Loki whimpers. “I can’t. Thor, don’t. Not until I’m done.”

“Fuck,” Thor breathes. “Loki, fuck.”

“Six days,” Loki says, “just six days.” He kisses Thor again, sweet and soft, winding him down. He plays with Thor’s hair, tugging gently, and tries to ignore the desperate throbbing of his cock.

“When this is all over, I’m gonna milk you for every last drop,” Thor growls.

Loki almost loses his resolve right then and there—how can he be expected to follow some ridiculous superstitions when his brother is standing in front of him, _naked_?

But Thor is the one who takes a step back after pressing a swift kiss to his forehead, giving Loki room to breathe.

“Soon,” Thor says, grabbing Loki’s hand and squeezing it. He smiles, goofy and happy.

“Soon,” Loki agrees. He smiles, knocks his forehead into Thor’s.

“Can you believe we just did this at the fucking Olympics,” Thor says, giggling.

“Only because you have no self-control, Odinson,” Loki says, grinning.

“I’m here to fuck and to win, baby,” Thor says, laughing.

“I can’t believe I’m in love with you,” Loki mutters.

“Aww, Lo,” Thor croons. “I love you too.”

\--

The worst thing about the Team Event, Loki thinks, is that he has no power over it. Winning here hinges on the performance of other people—Peter for the Men’s Free, Kamala for the Ladies’ Free, Peggy and Steve for Ice Dance, Scott and Hope for Pairs. All he can do is sit and watch, worrying himself into knots.

He’d thought he would resent it, the forced feeling of camaraderie, but along that way he’s realized that he genuinely wants these people to win as much as himself. It’s a new feeling. Maybe there’s something to this team thing. Thor certainly seems to like it.

When Peter hits six quads and skates to 1st, Loki almost screams himself hoarse. He even hugs the kid. The team settles themselves around him to watch as the last two events take place.

When the dust settles, Loki almost can’t believe it.

Team USA takes silver at the 2022 Nagano Olympics Figure Skating Team Event.

And just like that, Loki Odinson has an Olympic medal.

\--

\--

If Loki thought that medaling at the Team Event would make him less nervous about the Free Skate, he was wrong. He’s skating in the last group again, and the atmosphere is so thick with tension and anxiety that he almost leaves the arena to get some air.

This is going to be his last skate at his last Olympics. He desperately wants it to be a good one.

\--

\--


	2. Chapter 2

\--

It’s far too cold to wear a yukata outside in February, but Loki wants the full experience of being in an onsen town. Dinner is being served at their inn’s dining room, a spacious affair, all wood and natural lighting, so he and Thor get dressed in their robes—helping each other to do the sashes around the back—slip on their sandals, and take the short, brisk walk over.

They’re guided to their seats and find a full course waiting for them. There’s a small tray of delicate appetizers: mussels in broth, tofu with mushrooms, pickled vegetables. On the side is a large bowl of sashimi, artfully arranged: tuna, sea bream, scallops, sea urchin, spiny lobster. In the center of the table is a bowl of charcoal-grilled snow crab and beside it is a plate of marbled steak, to be cooked on a lava stone. There’s a small bowl for hotpot, and a plate of pufferfish and an assortment of vegetables to go into it.

There’s more food too: miso soup, a heaping salad, egg custard, golden deep-fried shrimp, two bowls of rice. The server tells them, with a smile, that they can get more rice if they wish.

They eat slowly, savoring their meal.

When Loki leans over to cup Thor’s jaw and feed him some fish, Thor leans in, taking the morsel with a delicate bite. He winks at Loki as he settles back, chewing smugly.

Loki licks his lips and crosses his legs, watches as Thor follows the movement, his eyes settling on a sliver of exposed thigh. It’s almost a physical weight, that gaze, and Loki bites his lip, raising a hand to tuck his hair behind his ear. The motion makes the sleeve of his robe fall down his arm, and Thor catches that movement too, eyes sharp.

Loki crosses his legs tighter.

They haven’t properly touched, not really, not since the desperate hook-up in the locker room after Thor’s pre-qualifying game. Not for lack of trying on Thor’s part—Loki has simply found himself wanting to draw things out. And he has. The anticipation is almost unbearably thick, every touch filled with the promise of more.

Thor has been surprisingly patient, but there’s something darker in his gaze now, and Loki remembers his promise: _I’m gonna milk you for every last drop_.

The thought drives a sharp ache right into Loki’s groin, and he fumbles with a piece of fish.

“You okay, baby?” Thor asks.

Loki nods, not trusting himself to talk.

For dessert, there’s a selection of beautiful tiny cakes, homemade sorbet, and a plate of fruit sliced to resemble rows of flowers. Loki almost can’t bear to eat them, but Thor plucks a piece of mango and pops it unceremoniously into his mouth, giving Loki a smile that says he thinks he’s charming.

Insufferable.

They eat every last bit, and not once does it enter Loki’s mind to feel guilty about it.

On the way back to their room, Thor wraps an arm around Loki’s waist and tucks him close. Loki’s heart goes haywire, but he reminds himself that no one would know them in this little village up in the mountains. Even then, they’re known for being affectionate, even for brothers.

But then Thor squeezes his ass and Loki stumbles, flushing hot and suddenly shot through with an arousal so dizzying that he can’t even snap at Thor for being so shameless. Out in the cold winter air, Thor leans down and licks the shell of Loki’s ear, and it’s all Loki can do to keep from moaning out loud. The slick, wet touch makes his knees quiver.

“ _Thor_ ,” he says, and it comes out as a whimper instead of the reprimand he was going for. 

“Loki,” Thor replies, smiling wide, pulling away and putting a bit of distance between them. God, Loki wants to kiss his stupid, smug face.

\--

Thor is kissing him as soon as they get the door closed, roughly baring Loki’s shoulders to mouth at his neck, his hands fumbling with the sash of his robe.

Loki’s head knocks backwards against the door and he clutches at Thor, his cock throbbing as Thor sets his teeth to Loki’s neck, biting down and then soothing the area with his tongue. Thor knows exactly where to lick to send frissons of pleasure tingling down Loki’s spine, making him arch his back with a needy whine.

“Stop,” Loki gasps, as Thor makes to go down to his knees.

“Baby,” Thor growls, his hands clenching restlessly on Loki’s hips.

Loki knows he must make quite a sight—the yukata barely clinging to him, sliding down his shoulders and open at his chest, his long, pale legs peeking out from behind the cloth.

“I want to bathe first,” Loki says, and watches Thor’s expression grow stormy. Loki knows he’s pushing it, but he doesn’t wait for Thor’s permission. He sidesteps out of his brother’s embrace, only wobbling a little, and sheds the robe entirely, fully aware of the way Thor’s gaze burns hot on his back as he slides the door open and steps outside.

He can’t quite stay dignified about sliding into the steaming hot bath, because it’s freezing cold outside—he nearly scrambles to get into the water. Once he’s in, though, he can’t help but groan in pleasure. His Olympics-battered body melts into the heat, aching bones and sore muscles falling silent. Not a protest to be heard, not even from his hip. His cock, though, makes itself known, twitching as he tries to acclimate to the intense temperature.

A moment later, the door slides open again, and Loki looks up. He can’t help the way he goes breathless: Thor is always a sight to behold, but now even more so, under the starlit sky, the cold air seeming to rise like steam from his body. His cock is hard too, gloriously so, and Loki’s heartbeat is _so_ loud in his ears.

Thor slides in, groaning just like Loki, and Loki, on the other side of the bath, is suddenly frozen in place.

“Fuck,” Thor sighs, “this is incredible.” His breath fogs in the air.

They’re outside. It’s a private bath, and the walls are high, and there should be no one to see them. But the open air makes Loki feel exposed. Vulnerable. It’s like that night in Vegas, out in the desert. It’s as public as they can ever get, and it makes something in Loki twist: longing and fear and a surge of recklessness all at once.

“C’mere,” Thor murmurs, though, and Loki obeys, wading over until they’re close enough to touch. He puts a hand on Thor’s chest, and Thor catches it, bringing it out of the water and pressing it to his lips.

Loki leans in, slowly, until he and Thor are pressed together, naked skin on naked skin, the water lapping gently around them.

It almost makes Loki sob, this kind of intimacy out in the open. He has to close his eyes against the swell of emotion in his chest, and Thor only tucks him close and kisses his hair.

It’s Loki who kisses Thor first, hesitant, and Thor strokes his jaw and deepens it, swiping his tongue along the seam of Loki’s lip. Loki moans, Thor’s arms going around him, their stiff cocks nudging under the water. Another sob bursts out of Loki and his hips jerk, rutting helplessly against Thor’s massive thigh.

The onsen is so hot it’s dizzying, and Thor isn’t helping; Loki can only moan and grind against his brother, light-headed and panting for breath. His heart is racing, and he doesn’t know if it’s from the heat or Thor’s touch. He wraps his arms around his brother’s neck and Thor rocks them impossibly closer, his hands kneading Loki’s ass.

“Baby,” Thor moans, and Loki shudders all over.

When Thor wraps a hand around his cock, though, Loki chokes and shakes his head.

“Baby, fuck,” Thor pants, “fuck, please just let me make you feel good.”

“Later,” Loki replies, just as breathless. “In bed, properly.”

“Fuck this,” Thor growls, and heaves Loki into his arms as he stands, hauling them out of the water.

“ _Thor_ ,” Loki gasps, but Thor isn’t listening. He’s breathing hard, almost growling, and he quickly bears them across the short, freezing distance from the bath outside to the warm room.

Thor tosses him on the bed, still soaking wet, and Loki scrambles to right himself as Thor goes back and slams the sliding door shut.

Loki props himself up on his elbows and watches as his brother stalks towards him, glowering, his chest heaving. A thrill goes through Loki, and he can feel himself shaking. His cock is dripping, and he suddenly wants nothing more than to spread his legs and have Thor take him like an animal.

“Enough,” Thor growls, and he’s pushing Loki down into the bed, forceful and unstoppable.

Loki’s legs open of their own accord, wrapping around Thor’s waist as Thor leans down to kiss him, hard and filthy, rutting their cocks together.

“Are you done being a fucking tease,” Thor growls, grinding hard against Loki, and Loki can only whine, throwing his head back and arching his back. Thor’s mouth finds a nipple and his teeth close around it, tugging and scraping until Loki’s breaths come out as sobs. He feels himself unspooling completely, losing control and coherence.

“Yes,” Loki chokes out, head spinning, his hands scrabbling at Thor’s shoulders and back. “Oh, fuck, please, fuck, I wanna come, make me come, oh fuck, _Thor_.”

Thor starts kissing down his chest and stomach, his hands making large sweeping passes across his skin, until Thor is low enough to take Loki’s cock into his mouth. Which he does, with no teasing, no preamble, just hot, tight suction, wet heat, his rough hands playing with Loki’s balls. He swallows Loki down to the root and Loki sobs, wretched and gone, fisting Thor’s hair in his hands as he jerks his hips roughly into Thor’s face. Then Thor’s thumb tucks itself into Loki’s hole and Loki arches off the bed and comes, convulsing and crying out.

Thor sucks him through it, then lets Loki’s cock slip out of his mouth and begins to lick at his rim.

“ _Thorrr_ ,” Loki slurs, half-drunk on his first orgasm in ages, still twitching all over.

“Every single drop, baby,” Thor says, surfacing for air before going back to laving Loki’s little pucker with his tongue.

Loki only whimpers in response, writhing as much as he can on the bed with Thor holding his legs open.

By the time Thor is satisfied that Loki has been sufficiently eaten out, Loki’s staring, largely unseeing, at the ceiling, cock hard and pulsing again. Thor helps him roll over onto his hands and knees, then presses down between his shoulders to lay his chest flat against the bed. He manhandles Loki’s hips, sparing a moment to pump his cock a few times before raising Loki’s ass into the air and spreading his legs wide.

Then he starts to eat Loki out again.

Loki moans, soft and surprised, rubbing his face against the sheets. His cock drips, and he can only focus on steadying himself on shaky legs as every swipe of Thor’s tongue against his sensitive rim makes his entire body shiver.

When Thor pulls off again, reaching between Loki’s legs to stroke his aching cock, Loki is out of words. His brain feels like mush, and he feels so achingly empty, the sensation so intense that he almost wants to cry.

“Good, baby?” Thor asks, hooking a thumb into Loki’s ass and spreading it open. Loki wonders how he must look, ass in the air and legs splayed open, dripping with pre-come and Thor’s spit.

“ _Nngh_ ,” Loki replies, his eyes rolling back into his head as Thor slips a finger into his hole. It’s almost too much, just that one digit, petting Loki’s sensitive walls, but Thor soon adds two, and Loki grunts, fucking himself back into them. Thor scissors his fingers, leaning down to lick at Loki’s stretched-open entrance again, just the pointed tip of his tongue flicking back and forth, driving Loki crazy.

“ _Thor_ ,” he sobs. “ _Thor_.”

“Yeah, baby,” Thor grunts, and then he’s pulling away. A moment later, before Loki can whine at the loss, the head of his cock is pushing in. Thor teases him, driving his cock in by inches before pulling out again, and Loki squeezes his eyes shut and pants, open-mouthed, as his brother fucks him.

His eyes open as Thor bottoms out, swearing softly from above him. His hands are so tight around Loki’s hips that they’re sure to leave bruises.

“So hot,” Thor is saying, “fuck, baby, you’re so hot, your hole is so fucking tight and hot and good for me, you were made for this, baby. My perfect baby brother.”

Loki can only gasp in reply, fisting the sheets in his hand and rocking back into Thor’s cock. He feels split open, stuffed so full that there’s no space for air.

Then Thor starts moving.

Each pull feels like an inhale, each push an exhale. It feels like giving breath to this impossible, sublime thing between them. Loki has spent so much of his life denying himself even the possibility of this that every touch feels like something stolen. Like something he’s never been meant to have, but took anyway. He’s never giving it back. He’ll fight for this with his life, he knows that now.

Thor leans down and kisses the back of his neck, the softest brush of his lips, and Loki starts crying, whispering Thor’s name over and over as his brother consumes him.

When he comes, his orgasm bursts white-hot, galaxies spinning through his fingers in the time it takes for him to come down from the peak. It’s still almost an afterthought to the feeling of his brother making a place for himself in Loki’s body.

Thor isn’t done with him.

He wraps his arms around Loki’s front and helps him sit up, still twitching and clenching around Thor’s hard cock. All of a sudden, Loki is aware of the room again, of the cold winter night outside, of the damp of their skin, sweat and water mingling together. Thor sits Loki on his lap and Loki turns his face blindly into Thor’s face, kissing him, let himself be kissed, letting his brother hook his hands under Loki’s knees and start moving his ragdoll-limp body up and down his cock.

Loki loses track of time. Thor takes him on his back, on his hands and knees again, drapes Loki over his body and eats him out again while Loki suckles clumsily at his cock. Thor’s first orgasm is a shock against his face, and Thor wipes his hands through the mess and makes Loki lick his fingers clean.

Thor wrings orgasm after orgasm out of him. There isn’t a moment when his brother isn’t fucking him, if not with his cock, then with his fingers and tongue. He’s never been fucked so thoroughly in his life. He’s never been loved so thoroughly in his life.

At the end of the night, Loki is on his side, fingers digging into the bed as Thor holds one leg open and his cock squelches into the wet mess of Loki’s ass.

“Gonna come again, baby?” Thor asks, voice hoarse. He rolls his hips and Loki’s eyes roll back.

“C-can’t,” Loki whimpers. His cock twitches pathetically. “Please, brother, I-I can’t—“

“You can,” Thor says, sweet and sure.

They’re both sticky with sweat, exhausted, and Loki doesn’t know up from down anymore.

“Clench that tight little ass around my cock, baby, that’s it, gonna fill you up one last time, make you filthy, make sure you never forget who you belong to.”

Loki’s mouth opens in one last helpless sob and his body jerk and he comes, cock sputtering weakly. It’s almost painful, the last one, his body wracked with it, oversensitive, overwhelmed.

Thor does fill him up like he said, Loki sighing as Thor’s come floods him inside and outside. He’s so full that Thor leaks out, even though he uses his fingers to push the come back in.

Loki giggles weakly, completely wrung-out.

“We should do that again,” he mumbles.

Behind him, Thor tucks his nose against Loki’s neck, laughing.

“Any time you want, baby,” Thor murmurs.

Loki nods, too tired to keep his eyes open.

“All the time,” he mumbles. “For the rest of my life.”

“Yeah,” Thor murmurs, stroking a hand down his side. “For the rest of our lives."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! 
> 
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated!!
> 
> Catch me on Twitter @sendaraven 💕


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